The First Time We Never Met
by Nevermore
Summary: Here's my own Lee and Kara meet fic. Sorta kinda. More accurately, they meet before they meet. No relevant spoilers.


Battlestar Galactica 2003 is a copyright of the Sci Fi Channel. Battlestar Galactica is a trademark and copyright of Universal Studios. Ron Moore re-imagined Glen A. Larson's original idea; but then again, most people who would be reading this already know that. My use is in no way intended to challenge or infringe upon any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.

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**Author's Notes:** This is a birthday fic for **Elentari2**, and as such is catered more to her tastes than mine. So don't blame me for the fluff.

Also, I had some people comment that a transition late in the story was awkward, which is something I never understood. Then, while re-reading lately, I found out that a line I'd inserted had been lost when the document manager screwed with the formatting. Now it should be okay, and I apologize to anyone who was confused with the originally posted version.

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**The First Time We Never Met**  
by  
**Nevermore**

Lieutenant Lee Adama stepped warily through the front door of the Starbuck Pub. Even if he hadn't known that this was widely regarded as the most dangerous bar in Caprica City, averaging one fatal bar brawl per week and sitting at the top of the list of off-limit establishments for Academy cadets since even before Lee and Joey had been there, he would have been concerned simply by the fact that his old roommate had chosen this place to celebrate his transfer.

"So, what do you think?" Joey asked.

"It's just what I expected," Lee replied, looking around and feeling as if he'd just walked into a scene from a low-budget action movie. Through the thick fog of cigar and cigarette smoke, he could make out silhouettes of dozens of people, many arranged in small groups around large, rectangular wooden tables with old, warped wooden benches alongside. A large bar was set in the middle of the room, and Lee noted that many of the men and women standing in front of it were conspicuously armed. _And I'll bet the rest are inconspicuously just as armed,_ he decided.

"It's the perfect place for you to get over Tina," Joey said.

"No wonder your callsign's Jester," Lee countered.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Because you must be joking," Lee said. "I'm willing to bet any woman I try to pick up in here is just as likely to stab me as kiss me."

"Well, just make sure you ask yourself which is more dangerous," Joey responded with a grin, leading the way to the bar, seemingly at home amongst a clientele that Lee decided consisted primarily of criminals of assorted trades.

"You don't seriously expect me to meet anyone here, do you?"

"You've been moping for a couple of months now, and after tomorrow I'll be out on the _Atlantia_, working for a living, and I won't be around to cheer you up anymore," Joey reminded him.

"This is cheering me up?" Lee asked, taking in a sweeping view of the room.

"You need to get back in the game," Joey said.

"I'm back in the game," Lee assured him. "I think I'd just prefer to play the game in safer surroundings."

"This is perfectly safe," Joey said with a broad smile. "Look, Apollo – the Marines are here." He pointed toward the door, and Lee set his eyes on several men and women walking in, all of them in planet-side combat fatigues, looking as if their ship hit orbit only minutes earlier. A woman in the group was already staring right at them, grinning broadly as she waved to Joey.

"Well I'll be damned," Joey muttered.

"Who's that?"

"Remember me telling you about Amanda?"

"Yeah – 'All Night' Amanda," Lee said, unable to stifle a chuckle. "How could I forget?"

"That's her."

"Your stories didn't do her justice," Lee said, enjoying the view. Amanda had a figure that Lee decided better fit a fashion model than a marine, and her tanned face and long, red hair completed an image that seemed completely out of place in fatigues. _Though I have to admit, there's something about a woman in uniform._

"Don't wait up for me," Joey said, patting Lee on the back of his shoulder and walking over toward the marines.

"Perfect," Lee grumbled under his breath, indulging in an impersonation of his roommate, indifferent to the lack of an audience. "Let's have some drinks, celebrate my transfer to a battlestar. Maybe you'll even find a woman to take pity on you." He looked around, laughing both at his own performance and at the idea that there was a single woman in the bar who could ever hold his attention.

"What can I get you?" a hulking bartender asked, knocking Lee out of his reverie.

"A better best friend," he quipped. The bartender glared at him, clearly not amused, and was just starting to walk away from his sarcastic customer when Lee added, "And a Sagitarron Sunrise."

The bartender arched his eyebrow, surprised that the little man in front of him had an appetite for something that strong, but then went to work mixing the seven alcohols in the drink. While he was busy, Lee looked around the room again, this time setting his gaze on a far corner where a crowd had gathered around a small table. The men and women were wagering as a large man drank shot-for-shot with an extremely loud blonde woman.

The man tossed back a shot of what Lee guessed was whiskey, and everyone cheered. Money changed hands as the woman shrugged, stared down her own glass, and then gulped it down. Her grimace quickly melted into an accomplished smile, and her eyes settled on the man seated across from her as she turned the shot glass upside down on a stack next to her.

The man sighed heavily and watched with unfocused eyes as one of the bystanders stacked his empty glass for him, produced another from a tray of clean glasses, and filled it with another drink. The man waited several moments, reached out his hand and, presumably thinking better of forcing any more alcohol down his throat, emptied the contents of his stomach all over the shoes of two people standing next to him.

The woman let out a piercing, celebratory scream that drowned out all else in the pub, stood up, and staggered over to the bar, ignoring the small fight that broke out behind her. She worked her way into the crowd of patrons waiting for drinks, standing next to Lee as she gestured to the bartender, who nodded as if he already knew what she wanted.

"You know, you're either pretty brave or pretty dumb, coming in here wearing a shirt like that," she said to Lee, her speech slightly slurred. She looked at him with big, bright hazel eyes, and Lee found it was all he could do not to stare.

"What's wrong with my shirt?" Lee asked, quickly regaining his cool, gazing down at the red shirt with a bright blue, tropical floral pattern. "I got this in the islands." He left out the fact that Tina had bought it for him during a vacation they'd taken while he was on furlough.

"Okay," she replied with a shrug. "But sooner or later, it's going to earn you the wrong kind of attention."

"Well, _you're_ talking to me," Lee pointed out.

"I rest my case," she said with a sarcastic grin. The bartender handed her a drink, and she remained standing by Lee's side.

_That's what Joey would call a green light,_ Lee decided. "I'm Jack," he blurted out, wondering even as he spoke why he gave a fake name. The only possible explanation he could figure out was that he'd always seen Joey do that when he was just looking to hook up for the night.

"Starbuck," she said with a satisfied smile that convinced Lee that the woman loved the sound of her own name.

"You own this place?" he asked.

"No, I guess you could say I was sort of named after it," she grinned. "I spent a lot of time here while I was in the Academy."

"The Academy?" Lee asked, instantly thinking of the Colonial Military Academy, but certain that she meant someplace else. _No way she's in the military. Besides, this place is strictly out of bounds for cadets,_ he reminded himself, _so it's not like a cadet would have been spending any time here_. "So… what do you do?"

"Guess."

Lee looked her over, as if he expected to find any clues that would help him divine Starbuck's occupation, and then finally shrugged his shoulders and said, "Artist."

She stared at him for several moments, her mouth agape, clearly uncertain as to what she should say next. "No, not even close," she finally managed. "I'm a Viper pilot."

"You're a Viper pilot," Lee said, his words absolutely awash in a flood of skepticism.

"Best damn Viper pilot in the fleet," she said proudly. "Starbuck's my callsign."

"The best pilot in the fleet got her callsign from a rough-and-tumble bar in a seedy part of town?" Lee asked. He'd only been joking with her, but a glimmer sprang to life in her eyes as she seemed to take his words as some sort of challenge.

"I'm the youngest pilot ever brought in as an instructor at the Academy," she said.

"And what're you teaching?" Lee asked, suddenly curious as to whether Zak might have this woman as an instructor during his first classes in flight school.

"Basic flight."

"Shouldn't the bets pilot in the fleet be teaching something a little more advanced?" Lee asked, unable to resist a little more teasing.

"It was all they had available," she told him.

"Or maybe someone thought you needed some remedial work and they were afraid you might punch them out if they told you straight out like that," Lee suggested. He figured he was already getting a pretty good feel for this woman, and a jibe like that not only seemed fitting but, Lee guessed, was far more likely to keep her around than send her away.

The defiant look on Starbuck's face took a few moments to ease up, and she smiled broadly as she nodded her head. "Between that shirt and that smart mouth, you're lucky I found you first," she said, "because some of the other patrons might not appreciate your personality so much."

"Are you saying you appreciate my personality?" Lee asked her, a broad, cocky smile spreading across his face.

"You amuse me," Starbuck admitted. "But then again, Rolf amused me, too."

"Rolf?"

Starbuck's only answer was to point back to the man she'd been drinking with when Lee first saw her. Two of his friends were pulling him off the floor and half-carrying him toward the door. "Rolf underestimated me, too."

"I'm not underestimating you," Lee assured her.

"You seemed to doubt me when I told you I'm the best Viper pilot in the fleet," Starbuck pointed out.

"Well, you know what they say," Lee said. "Those who can, do; those who can't, teach."

"Oh… is that what they say?" Starbuck asked, taking a large gulp of her drink, grinning with delight at the verbal sparring match.

"They do." Lee took a long sip of his own drink, suddenly deciding that there was no other place in the galaxy he'd rather be.

"So what do you do?"

"I teach," Lee joked. That elicited the chuckle he'd been hoping for.

"Really?"

"No," Lee admitted. "I was never much one for kids."

"Well I'm going to be a teacher, but I won't be around kids," Starbuck pointed out.

"Of course you won't," Lee said sarcastically, unable to shake off assorted memories of Zak's immature behavior.

"So what do you _really_ do?" she asked.

"A little of this, a little of that," Lee answered without thinking. He immediately started wondering why he hadn't admitted to being a Viper pilot, but something in his mind argued that if he did that, Starbuck would probably turn and walk away. He had no rational reason for arriving at that conclusion, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt Starbuck was the type not to get involved with other officers. And despite his initial impressions upon walking into the pub, Lee was unable to deny he was more than willing to get involved with Starbuck in any way he could.

"A little of this, a little of that," Starbuck repeated. "Look Jack, I know you're probably trying to sound all mysterious and dangerous, hoping that maybe that'll help you get lucky, but when you say something like that, it sounds more like you're unemployed. Not really a turn-on."

"And you think I'm hoping I'll get lucky."

"You're telling me you're not?" Starbuck asked with an expression that clearly conveyed her belief that Lee, just like any other heterosexual male, wanted nothing more than to land her in bed.

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

"No."

"I'm hurt."

"You look fine to me," Starbuck countered.

"Oh, so despite the shirt, my personality, and my questionable level of employment, you think I'm _fine_?"

"Marty, a shot!" Starbuck bellowed, drawing stares from everyone around them. The large bartender lumbered over, produced two shotglasses, and filled them with whiskey in what seemed like one, fluid motion.

"You have him well trained," Lee commented, eliciting a sharp laugh from Starbuck and a glower from Marty.

"The sun may kiss the morning grass," Starbuck giggled, raising her glass in a toast. "The clock may kiss the hours that pass. The flowing wine may kiss the glass… and you, my friend… drink hearty," she said, somehow simultaneously shooting back her drink and cackling at her own wit as Lee looked on in awe.

"Marry me," he muttered, throwing back his drink as Starbuck stared at him.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Huh?" Lee asked, struggling to keep a straight face as the alcohol burned its way down to his stomach.

"I thought I heard a proposal somewhere in there," Starbuck said.

"Then you must have been drinking for a long time before I showed up," Lee said, "because you're hearing things."

"Or maybe you're just too much of a coward to admit what you said." She raised her hand and gestured to their glasses, and before Lee even realized what was going on, she was handing him a freshly filled shotglass. "Here ya go, Jack – liquid courage."

"You're just trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me," Lee teased.

"I'd have to get you drunk for that?" Starbuck countered.

"No," Lee said immediately. He was about to say something else, though at no point in his life did he ever remember what that was; coherent thought abandoned him as Starbuck grabbed the back of his head and drew him in to an unexpected kiss.

Lee shuddered as a fire erupted in his chest. The rest of the bar ceased to exist to him; all there was in his universe was Starbuck. Her lips. Her tongue. Her fingernails scratching the back of his head as she ran her fingers through his hair. The bar digging into his back as she threw herself against him. Her breasts pushing against his chest as she struggled as much as he did to somehow get closer. Her hips grinding against his so hard it hurt.

Finally she drew back and stared at him, and he was suddenly aware of how alive – and how spent – he already felt, after having spent only ten minutes with this woman.

"Let's go," Starbuck said, grasping his wrist in a vise-like grip and dragging him through the pub, leading him outside into a night that seemed unnaturally crisp and clear after the stifling haze of the bar.

"Where are we going?" Lee asked

"I have a place not far from here," she said. "Just a short bus ride."

Lee didn't say another word; he simply held his tongue and allowed himself to be led. By the time they reached the bus stop, he was already unsteady on his feet, unused to alcohol and quickly growing overwhelmed by the hefty drink and two shots that he'd sucked down in quick succession. He was aware that Starbuck never left his grasp, that their lips were locked as often as not, and that after awhile he was wondering how he managed to get enough air to his muddled mind; as the night grew ever more like a dream, he began to notice that Starbuck, for her part, was becoming far less lucid.

The bus finally arrived, and they took their seats. Lee sat by a window, and Starbuck sat on his lap, eagerly kissing his neck as if her life depended on her keeping their passion at a rolling boil until they reached her apartment. They almost missed their stop, and Starbuck managed to lead the way to her door, though by the time they reached it, she was incapable of operating a device as complex as her key.

"Let me," Lee offered.

"Shanks," Starbuck slurred with an awkward, forced laugh, leaning against the doorframe.

Lee opened the door and Starbuck led the way inside. "Make yourshelf at home," she offered. "I'm jusht going to make a quick pot of coffee."

"Okay," Lee muttered. He doubted Starbuck realized it yet, but the passion was dead, the moment lost. _Nothing's gonna happen,_ he knew. _Not tonight. Not with her like that._

He waited several minutes for her, looking around the small apartment. There were only a few pieces of furniture – a beat-up sofa, a small table with two wooden chairs, and a rickety shelf bending under the weight of a few books and an old-fashioned turntable. He looked at the record on top, seeing the name of a woman he vaguely recognized as a blues singer from Aerelon. He turned the music on and opened the one small window, enjoying the slightly cool, humid air that he had come to associate with Caprica City's summer nights when he'd been in the Academy.

Starbuck had obviously just moved in, as evidenced by several unpacked boxes. The walls were whitewashed and bare, except for a single painting that hung over the sofa. Lee took a moment to look at it, and was about to write it off as just another piece of abstract "art" that amounted to a few random splashes of blue, green, orange, and grey paint on a canvas when he realized that it wasn't abstract at all. _It looks like an abstract,_ he thought with a smile, _but it's actually a still-life. I've seen that before._ It was a painting of Lake Hera, just outside Oasis, as seen at sunset by a Viper pilot flying at least Mach 2.

Noticing that Starbuck had been silent for several minutes, Lee checked the kitchen, finding her passed out in the corner, a can of market-brand coffee half-emptied in her lap.

"Oh, Starbuck." He bent over, brushed away the coffee grounds, and then hoisted her into his arms.

"I spilled the coffee," Starbuck murmured.

"You can get it in the morning," Lee told her. "I hear dust from the kitchen floor makes it taste better."

He carried her to bed, laying her down gently, making certain her head was settled in a comfortable position on her pillow. After draping a thin blanket over her, he stood there for several minutes, taking in the image, swearing to every god he could think of that he would never forget her. _Though dollars to donuts she never remembers me,_ he decided. _She doesn't even know my real name, since I was an asshead and told her my name is Jack._

Lee considered writing her a note, explaining who he was and asking her to look him up, but decided against it. _I'll be halfway back to Delphi City by the time she wakes up, and if she really doesn't remember me, she'll probably just be creeped out that some guy she doesn't remember was in her apartment leaving her notes._

"No," he said to the silence, deciding he would leave and get enough sleep so that he could get an early start before catching his flight back to his home base. "With Zak on-planet, I'll have a reason to come up here all the time. I'll just give it a few weeks, then visit and see if I can find an excuse to get him to introduce me to his Basic Flight instructor. She's gonna be stationed here for at least a year… she's not going anywhere, and there's no reason to rush it."

-------------------------------------------------

"Okay, time to get you to bed," Lee said, walking cautiously over toward Kara, knowing well that as drunk as she was, she was as likely to punch him in the face as she was to accept his help. He would have to be careful until he knew for sure what kind of mood she was in.

"Frak off," Starbuck growled.

"Great," Lee muttered under his breath. _So I get to dodge punches._ He leaned over and carefully started to lift her, barely having to move his head to the right to avoid a pitiful left jab. _She really overdid it tonight. I don't care how screwed up she is over everything that's happened… this can't go on. She's setting a bad example._

"Leave me here," Starbuck objected as Lee adjusted her in his arms, trying to cradle her shoulders comfortably in his right arm, hoping her head would end up leaning against his shoulder instead of sticking out to the side, a target for every doorway they walked through on the way to Kara's rack. "Actually, on second thought, this is okay," Starbuck amended, settling her head just the way Lee wanted.

"Warn me this time if you decide to throw up," Lee said.

"Uh-huh," she answered, settling in for the trip through _Galactica's_ least used hallways. Though she would never admit it, Kara appreciated that Lee took great pains to avoid letting anyone see her when she got this bad. _I guess I just can't hold my liquor like I used to,_ she decided.

The walk seemed longer than usual, and she was starting to marvel at Lee's ability to carry her all this way. _It's not exactly like I'm a lightweight,_ she thought. _It takes a lot of muscle to handle a Viper._ But Lee continued on, never breaking stride or uttering a word of complaint.

_That's strange,_ Kara realized. As she thought back on it, virtually every man she'd known in her life could be classified in one of two groups: first were the alpha male soldier types, all of whom either ignored her when she overindulged, or sometimes reluctantly took care of her but bitched about it the whole time, all while expecting a good frak as compensation the next day; then, of course, there were the well-meaning, weak-willed saps who let her walk all over them, who kowtowed before her and struggled to take care of her when she needed it, all while preparing a speech that they'd give the next day, expressing their great disappointment in her behavior, or some other touchy-feely crap she had no use for. _Lee is the only exception. He doesn't bitch and moan, he doesn't lecture me about how I hurt his feelings, and he doesn't expect sexual favors as compensation for his time and effort._

"Doing okay?" Lee asked.

"Uh-huh," Kara muttered. _Yup, he just asks that I do him the service of not blowing chunks all over him. Reasonable enough. The Adama men… what a rare breed. Other than Lee and Zak, I never knew another guy who ever seemed genuinely concerned without any thought of trying to control me. Well, except for Jack._ She smiled at the thought of his name, both at the fun she'd had with the man and at the memory of how decent a guy he turned out to be. _Never saw him again after that night, either. Couldn't even remember what he looked like enough to draw a sketch, and then, of course, I stopped looking after I met Zak. But that night…_

"What're you smiling at?" Lee asked. He was trying to hide it, but Kara could tell that he was starting to strain, now. She hoped they were getting close.

"Nothing," Kara said. _It's not like I could tell him the truth. Like Lee would ever understand if I tried to explain about some guy whose face I can't remember, who I only know the first name of, who made me feel like…_ She stopped her thoughts there, before she wandered off into the dangerous territory of soul-mates and other preposterous, sickeningly romantic nonsense. _No way I should be thinking that way about a guy I hardly knew. Even if he took care of me and made me laugh hours after he left my place._

Kara's mind was swimming, and she struggled to think back to what it was that made her laugh the morning after she woke to find Jack gone. _That's right,_ she remembered, _it was the coffee. I spilled coffee all over the kitchen floor that night._ "Hey," she murmured, grinning as she gazed up into Lee's eyes.

"Yeah, Kara?" he asked.

"I spilled the coffee," she told him, giggling at her private joke.

To her surprise, Lee stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her, his eyes wide in an expression that appeared equal parts shock and utter terror. "You can get it in the morning," he finally told her, his features melting back into the stolid mask she was used to seeing him wear around the crew. "I hear dust from the kitchen floor makes it taste better."

Kara gasped.

_Fin_


End file.
